


An Evil of Her Own Making

by Shiel



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, post-S3 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiel/pseuds/Shiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka used Magellan's Astrolabe, not Artie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Evil of Her Own Making

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work of fan fiction I have written in over four years.
> 
> The first chapter is a bit of a retelling of the events of S4E1, but this story will diverge drastically from canon in coming chapters, assuming they get written.

Artie, Myka, and Pete found themselves standing a bit stupidly outside of the family-owned Italian restaurant which stood between them and the Vatican basilica. Myka's mind was moving a mile a minute--its usual pace--and was neglecting Pete and Artie's discourse for the moment.

Giancarlo's, the restaurant, hid a secret tunnel to the basilica housing St. Peter's tomb, and they needed in; that was about the gist of it. A crazy idea was taking shape in her head.

"…Okay, so how do we get past Brünhilda?" Pete asked.

"Exactly." Artie responded, conclusively.

Myka made up her mind. She squared her shoulders and looked at her companions. "You guys--"

Artie made an epiphany face and brushed past Myka, cutting her off and pushing something into her hands. Before she or Pete could say another word, Artie had lifted one of the restaurant's metal dining chairs above his head and plunged it through the glass of the storefront. Pete and Myka only stared at him. He gave them an expectant look and then ran past them, faster than he looked, down the street.

Screaming and cursing in Italian followed Artie, only slightly ahead of three angry storekeepers. Artie stopped, feigning resignation, in front of an unamused police officer. As the officer put him in handcuffs, Artie turned to face Pete and Myka, and mouthed "hurry up". Myka didn't need to see any more. She pocketed the incomplete astrolabe that Artie had put into her hands.

"Let's go, Pete."

"Myka, Artie's in trouble! We can't just--"

"He bought us this chance, Pete!" she took a breath and turned to check whether the store owner was watching. "We need to go now. Artie will be fine if we can get the Astrolabe working in time. So will H.G., and Claudia and Mrs. Fredrick."

Pete was obviously conflicted, but he made up his mind quickly at the sight of Artie being shoved into a police cruiser, beyond his help. "Alright," he said. "Let's go."

After the pair had crawled through the broken window, as they were hurrying toward the back of the shop, Myka muttered "…I was going to do that…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

One long, creepy tunnel later, Myka and Pete found themselves in a murky, brick-walled basement room with a stairway leading up at one end and an ornate, archaic elevator door at the other.

"Why do we ALWAYS find ourselves in creepy tunnels, Myka?" Pete asked.

"The magical artifact needs a creepy tunnel to guard it," She replied. "Dungeons and Dragons got it right after all." Pete gave her a look.

"…You played D&D?" he asked.

"…no." She lied. "Ah, listen, the alidade that will make this thing work is in St. Peter's tomb. I'll bet that's where the elevator here comes in so…"

Pete stopped. "Myka…I'm getting vibes, here. Big ones."

"What, Pete, good or bad ones?"

"I don't know, both? Neither? Whatever it is, there's lots of 'weird' thrown in with it."

"…alright." Myka got out her Tesla. Keeping a careful eye on basically everything in the room, she slowly made her way over toward the elevator. Upon reaching the elevator console, she nodded at Pete. He whipped out his Tesla and pointed it at the door, and she pressed the 'up' button.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, and then pressed the down button, all to a similar effect.

"Well. That was anticlimactic." she said.

"I was JUST about to say that."

"Alright, well, old electronics aren't really my forte, but--"

"Your what?"

She gave Pete her 'are you serious' look. "Forte, Pete. My 'thing', my 'bag'. They aren't my 'cup o' tea', Pete."

Pete shot back his 'I learned something' look. After a minute's contemplation, he said "We need Claudia…"

"No, no, the bookworm might just have some tricks up her sleeve." Myka motioned for Pete to take a step back, and leaned in to take a close look at the ancient copper wires and the decrepit insulation of the old device. She tested one wire, then the other, with her finger, to feel for a charge. She nodded, thought for a second.

Then she jumped back and shot the console with her Tesla.

The console exploded, but the elevator door opened without taking any issue with the matter. Myka scanned the inside of the elevator and quickly noticed the piece out of place: the dial on the floor-marker, seen through the looking glass on the back wall; it was the alidade they were looking for. She looked at Pete and nodded. "The dial, Pete."

He nodded back. "I don't know what to be more amazed at, that you shoot everything to solve your problems, or that it works most of the time…" He said. "Just remind me not to get on your bad s-- Oh, Mykes, we have company." He said the last bit as amusedly as he had said the rest; there were two solemn, vestment-clad men standing behind them.

Myka was less amused. "Ugh, we don't have time for this." She raised her Tesla; one of the men, the closer to her, flew into motion and kicked the device out of her hand faster than she thought he would be able. The Tesla collided with the wall and made a noise like a burst light bulb. At the same instant, the man's cohort jumped at Pete and got into a grappling match with him.

Myka knew how she was going to solve this one already. She engaged her opponent and gave him a series of feints and fake-outs until he was confused and off-balance enough for her to give him a hard blow right across the nose. That sent him reeling for a second, which she took to tackle Pete's opponent into a wall. Pete, in turn, took that chance to Tesla Myka's already-approaching enemy, and then his own as the man was getting up from the floor.

"Cool." Myka said matter-of-factly. She and Pete made their way toward the elevator.

Pete groaned. "Ho boy. Myka, vibes out the ass, here--"

The brick wall behind Pete split in two, and a third man rushed out at them.

Myka, seeing him first, moved to take him down quickly; the man flashed a dagger at Myka, making her jump back. Pete, having seen him now, grabbed the man and wrestled and grappled with him. They tumbled left, then right, right into the open elevator door.

Myka took the free moment to grab her Tesla off the ground, where it had fallen earlier. The heavy glass around the coil was shattered and falling off, but she didn't think twice about it; she pointed the weapon at the vested man in the elevator, whose back was to her, and pulled the trigger.

Blue light shot everywhere except forward. A feeling like having ones blood replaced with ants immediately seized Myka's entire body; she felt herself fall to the floor.

What felt to be only a second later, Myka opened her eyes and saw Pete standing in the doorway of the elevator, holding in his outstretched hand the piece of the Astrolabe that they had come for. "I got it, Mykes."

She pulled herself to her feet quickly. She immediately noticed the third vested man, whom Pete had fought with, lying on the ground outside the elevator; his own dagger had pierced his heart. Myka curled her lip with guilt and pity, and looked to Pete.

"I got it, Mykes," he said again. Myka smiled and took the metal alidade from his hand.

"Great work, Pete. Shame about him…" she nodded toward the stabbed man. Taking the first piece of the Astrolabe, which Artie had given her, from her jacket pocket, she added "But now it's time to figure this thing out and turn all, of…Pete?"

Pete was clutching his left side. Blood was escaping his shirt; a lot of it. "Oh my god, Pete!" Myka exclaimed.

Seeing Myka's face, Pete pushed out a small laugh and said "Ha…you should, shoulda seen the other guy." He tried to take a step, but tumbled forward; Myka caught him and eased him onto the ground. His hands and his shirt were drenched in blood.

"Pete, Pete I think, think I can, oh my god…Pete…" Myka's eyes were darting in every direction looking for something to do to help.

"Ha…I think he got me good, Mykes. It, it didn't hurt at first, but…now it does, Mykes. It hurts bad."

Myka let out a sound that she didn't have the heart to try to interpret. She knew lost causes. Pete wouldn't survive this one.

"It really, really hurts, Myka!" Pete said. The fear and desperation in his voice made a piece of Myka want to run away, immediately, to stop this memory from happening. There were tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Pete…" she sobbed. "We'll, we'll fix this, Pete! I'll use the Astrolabe, I'll go back and stop all of this from happening! You'll be ok, Pete. You'll be…" she could barely speak.

Pete made a noise that may have been an attempt at a laugh. "Me an' H.G., and, and Claud too, huh?" He groaned. "Oh Mykes…I'm not going to remember…?"

Myka knew what he was asking, but all she could say was "Oh, Pete…" between sobs.

"Remember…dying? Am I?"

"No, Pete. You won't."

Pete smiled the least bit. He tried to have one last laugh, but he didn't breathe in afterward. He was so still.

Myka sobbed and sobbed. She felt blacker and colder than she ever thought she could feel.

"I'll remember it, Pete." she sobbed, gulped. "I, I will, Pete!"

She had seen almost everybody that she had come to love during the past years die. She always told herself that she could stop the pain if she kept working, kept thinking, and honored their sacrifices; but this was one that she couldn't work through.

She had to try, though, to honor this sacrifice, and to make it right. She took out her Farnsworth and dialed Leena.

"Myka, hi--" Leena started. "Myka? What's wrong?" 

"I, just…tell me, do you have, an artifact that can stop this?" Myka asked, as collected as she could be. There were still tears.

"Ah…Myka…" Leena looked like she could see the blackness of Myka's feelings through the Farnsworth. "Yes, I think we've got something."

Mr. Keeler, the regents' agent, walked onto the screen.

"Mahatma Gandhi's dhoti, Myka." he said. "It's said to emanate pure peace, which we think could counteract the powers of the bomb."

Myka wiped her eyes. "Alright, good. Is, is there any other? Like, for a backup?"

Leena and Keeler looked at each other. "No, Myka, that's all we could find that's already in the Warehouse. Was. Or, will be? Anyway--"

"Fine, what aisle?"

"It's in Prescott 1948, Myka."

"Perfect." Myka cut the feed without saying anything more. She was sick of this history and wanted back to normalcy as soon as possible. She assembled the Astrolabe, and handled it a little, getting a feel for it. A sound cut through her thoughts.

"Wh-why?"

Myka turned, slowly, to face the source of the question: the man with the dagger in his chest. A piece of Myka wanted to twist the thing.

"Please, tell me why."

Myka said nothing, but held up the Astrolabe. She was sick of this history.

"If, if you do this, you can tell no one!" Myka paused, looked down at him. "Anyone you tell of your actions will be in grave danger! If you use the Astrolabe, you will create an evil of your own making; an evil that will live with you the rest of your days!"

With that the man made a noise of death. Myka didn't want to watch more death. She was sick of this history.

She held up the Astrolabe, grabbed it with her other hand, held the alidade to her eye.

There was a flash of orange light…

* * *

…and a barrage of pleasant smells, and of dark spots littering Myka's field of vision. And pain.

The dark spots cleared away along with the pain, when the rope binding Myka's airway dropped to the cement floor beneath. The smells turned out to be Helena.

Helena stood before Myka, gasping for breath and looking with relief upon Artie, who had just freed them from the vengeful rigging of the _Mary Celeste_. Myka, also suddenly short of breath, could only look at Helena in wonderment. Here before her, very much alive, was her dear friend whom she had watched die only one day previously; or, more technically, only fifteen minutes in the future. Tears came again, tears of joy and relief. Already the deaths of H.G. and Pete and Mrs. Fredrick and, most probably, Claudia seemed like part of a horrid nightmare.

Myka practically lunged forward, and held Helena closer and tighter than she had held anybody before.


End file.
